Cannibal Fun
by ikkiki
Summary: Friends don't let friends cook the neighbors alone.
1. Breaking and Entering

Chapter One

"All we have to do is sneak inside, murder Jack, and all your problems will be solved, Will." Hannibal said, convincingly, while staring at Will. Will however, was unimpressed, and wanted ice cream for breakfast, not Jack.

"I don't know, it just seems kind of predictable, plus what kind of sauce are you going to use, and—Wait, are those french fries?"

"Yes, once again, your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me." Hannibal replied dryly, while munching on a french fry, which was really quite rude of him. It also made Will want to rip his tongue out.

"Don't be such a male reproductive organ," Will retorted, "if you're going to be impolite, you might as well offer me a fry too." Will waited for Hannibal to offer him a fry with his hands outstretched, and yet, Hannibal looked at him, smug and confident in his ability to keep Will well away from his precious fries.

After ten minutes of this treatment, and not getting any less hungry, Will finally cracked, "Okay, you know what, fine! I'm done with you! Let's just get into Jack's house and murder him!" Will exclaimed, while throwing his hands up in the air, like he really didn't care. But he did. Don't let him fool you.

"That's the spirit!" Hannibal rejoiced cheerfully, while putting on his Murder Hat, Murder Shirt, Murder Tie, Murder Pants, and finally, his Murder Shoes, patent pending.

"Do you really need all of that in order to kill Jack?" Will looked at Hannibal's gear, doubting the effectiveness of his attire.

"Not to kill Jack, William, but to watch you kill Jack."

"Holy sexual intercourse. And don't call me William."

"Indeed," Hannibal agreed, ignoring Will's request completely. "But kindly refrain from such graphic language; there could be some young children skulking around." Hannibal admonished, slapping Will's wrist lightly.

"Why would they hang out directly in front of Jack's house? It's 2 a.m., and it seems kind of pointless, unless they want to kill Jack too." Will rationalized. However, at that exact moment, a nearby trash can fell over with a loud crash. As the can fell, the two children that used to be hiding behind it were revealed. They tried to hide once more, but due to the trash can recession there were no more trash cans in the city of Baltimore anymore; therefore their plan was foiled. They stood like would-be murderers, caught in the act. "_F_, for lack of finesse, effort, and success!" Hannibal screamed at the formerly trashy duo as the two children ran away in fright, leaving their murder weapons behind. "Run cowards, you'll never be real murderers like us!" Hannibal continued, brandishing the fake killers' knives, guns, harpoons, poisons, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, bears, and trees at their retreating backs.

"Did you really need to do that? I mean, they would've gotten rid of Jack for us, and then we could've killed them and had both Jack and the kids for dinner. A buy-one-get-two-free kind of deal." Will said, emotionlessly, while he finished painting his toenails a pale yellow, like lemonade on a sunny day, or like a sunflower with slightly muted colors. His fingernails were done in a soothing blood red, to help him get in his Murder Mood_TM_, and his toes were done in the color of a dead canary, in order to annoy Hannibal.

Hannibal looked at Will's hands approvingly, but then glanced down and glared at Will's feet distastefully. But that didn't matter at the moment, he tried to convince himself, as his eyes kept getting drawn to Will's tackily colored toes. This was thankfully stopped by a "My eyes are up here," from Will, and then the partners-in-crime-but-also-so-much-more were finally able to approach the house, sneaking in like real serial killers, which one of them was.

"I can't see," Will whispered, like an animal whisperer, "is there a light switch somewhere?"

"I have no idea what the fuck you just said," Hannibal replied coldly, like the fridge he kept his victims' organs and body parts in, "You're going to have to speak English, French, Lithuanian, Japanese, or one of the many other languages I know." Will attempted to demonstrate his frustration with Hannibal by showing the other man his middle finger, but he forgot that the lights were still off, so this technique was ineffective.

"Hanni-bear, could you please turn the lights on?" Will quietly asked, mockingly, with a sweet voice. Hannibal swirled around, eyes locked onto where he thought Will was. Hannibal turned the lights on, and it turned out that he was staring at a wall. He sighed quietly. Will sniggered in the background.

"Shut up."

Will continued to snigger. Hannibal grabbed his face and stuffed a dirty sock into Will's mouth. "Don't do that type of fecal matter to me," Will stated, after he managed to get the piece of dirty laundry out of his mouth on the seventh try, "It's disgusting and weird."

Hannibal sniggered.

"It also makes me want to murder you."

Hannibal stopped sniggering and started laughing.


	2. The Party Starts

Chapter 2

After a brief argument over which one of the dynamic duo was Batman—which was settled through a game of rock, paper, scissors, of which Hannibal ended up being the victor, even though Will suspected he had cheated—they continued on their journey through the house, turning on the lights in each room they went through, in order to make sure that they didn't get lost.

"Hey, Hannibal," Will willingly whispered, as he looked into the next room, "My empathy's telling me something bad is going to happen." Hannibal didn't roll his eyes, since he was too polite, but he did roll his marbles onto the floor to prove a point. "Will," he said patronizingly, "Don't be ridiculous. We're breaking into a high-ranking FBI agent's house; said FBI agent has combat training, a gun, and will be able to recognize us at a single glance. As you can see, there's nothing to worry about. Furthermore, your abilities are empathetic, not clairvoyant, so I don't think that you're exactly an expert on this subject." Hannibal explained as he patted Will on the head a little harder than necessary.

"Well there's no need to be so condescending," Will muttered darkly, expressing himself by shooting a potted plant as he ascended the stairs, "I just have a bad feeling about this place. We should just kill Jack and leave. Try not to do anything weird." He looked at the marbles as the duo passed them, pointedly.

Hannibal laughed softly, gathering his marbles, and then skipped ahead of Will—who was taking his sweet time destroying all the potted plants that they passed— without a care in the world. He stopped in front of an ornate door, plated with real gold, if what his nose was telling him was true, which, after the time that he threatened it, never lied to him again. He stopped, and dramatically glanced at Will with a sultry look on his face. Will shifted, uncomfortable.

Hannibal shrugged this off, and proceeded to sashay into what he thought was Jack's room, but just as he set foot into the quarters, the lights went out. A loud crash came from the hall right behind him, where Will was when the lights failed to work. Hannibal twirled around, and softly called out, "Will?"

"Hannibal?"

"No, it's Will." Will ignored the deadpan reply, wishing that he could gut Hannibal, but instead settled for an equally satisfying, if not childish and immature, action, "I told you so. Something bad happened, and we're going to get killed by a serial killer now."

"Will," Hannibal was starting to develop a headache from his partner's stupidity, "I am a serial killer, and soon, you will be too. I'm the one that'll do the killing." Will didn't look too convinced, and even in the darkness, Hannibal knew that Will wasn't convinced. "It doesn't matter; I found Jack's room, so we just have to kill him, redecorate the house, steal the left foot of all his shoes—"

"Why are we going to redecorate the house? That idea's on the same level of idiocy as Jack's theories as to who the Chesapeake Ripper really is. He's thought it was Justin Timberlake, Oprah, and every pizza delivery guy that's delivered pizza to the FBI headquarters." Will flipped his hair aggressively and took on a menacing (in his opinion) stance, but since Hannibal was unable to see, part two of Will's Intimidation Technique was lost on him.

Hannibal looked on blindly. But then it hit him. And it wasn't the frying pan that Will had swung at his head, in a poor attempt at killing the Great Killer. He could use his formerly traitorous nose to find his way through the house. "Will, here's what we're going to do; we're going to get out our weapons, get in this room, kill Jack, steal all of his shoes, and then get out of here. Any questions?"

Will thought for a minute, and then, "Before, you said that we were stealing the left foot of all his shoes. Why are we stealing all his shoes now?" Hannibal sniffed at him appreciatively, "Why not?"

"Good point. We're also stealing all of his mugs and shooting them. I've always wanted a mug to be shot. Those bastards. Ever since they killed my mother, and my father shortly afterward, I've abhorred those—"

"Yeah, whatever," Hannibal rolled his eyes for real this time, since he just didn't care anymore and couldn't bother to put in the effort to be polite to Will, "We've got better things to do than listen to your tragic backstory. Like killing Jack, for instance. We've been here for thirty minutes. This is stupid. We open the door on three, and we do everything we can to kill that asshole, got it?"

"Sounds good."

As Hannibal had the superior counting skills, along with the superior cooking and serial killing skills, he counted, and when he got to three, the dynamic duo majestically leaped into Jack's room, then proceeded to knife the knives, gun the guns, harpoon the harpoons, poison the poisons, launch the grenade launchers, snipe the sniper rifles, bare the bears, and tree the trees.

"Where did we get all these weapons?"

Hannibal shrugged uncaringly, "Who cares? Hannibal out." Hannibal teleported far, far away, along with all of the organs, which were now also far, far away, leaving Will on his own. Will cried out in agony, before slow motion sprinting out of the house by himself. "That limp placenta… We didn't even get to steal Jack's shoes, and I didn't get to shoot the mugs…" He swore revenge on that betraying betrayer.

Hannibal cackled as he appeared on his lawn, the cackling drawing the attention of the neighbors. He stopped cackling and stared them down instead. They went back to whatever neighbors do when they're in their natural habitats. Hannibal calmly entered his house. He wasn't crazy. Not at all.


	3. Funeral Festivities

Chapter Three

Funeral Festivities

At his house, Hannibal was enjoying a smaller than usual dish of Hearté Dé Humané a la Crepé Quiché Soufflé Grandé when Will climbed out of his basement. "Will, I'm giving you two seconds to explain why you're in my house before I knife you." Hannibal held up his spoon threateningly.

"I saw you teleport, and got jealous. So, I crawled out of the hole in your basement." Hannibal looked confused. "Oh you know, the one that leads to hell." Hannibal had no idea what the idiot standing in his kitchen meant. He lunged at Will, holding the spoon as if it were a deadly weapon, which it could be, as it was in a talented serial killer's hands and he was not afraid to use it. Not since The Incident. Realizing that Hannibal wasn't paying attention to him, caught in a ten minute flashback, Will clarified, "The hellhole," and was rewarded by Hannibal's understanding of the matter and the resulting attention.

Will helped himself to some of Hannibal's ridiculously longed-named dish using his fingers, and then helped himself to some more, ignoring Hannibal's outraged and disgusted face.

"This is pretty good," Will munched, food projectiles flying out of his mouth, hitting Hannibal in the face, avenging their mother. "Although, it could use a little—" Hannibal knifed him, with a real knife this time. Will took the knife and licked his blood off of it. His knife wound zipped back up sassily, hiding his innards from view. A virgin's blood healed Will. It was a miracle. Hannibal sighed in disappointment.

"Jack's coming." Hannibal sniffed the air, and knew Will was right. After all, Will smelled like truthfulness, wet dog, glue, the fifth Harry Potter book, tissues, and thread. Hannibal wondered what Will did in his free time.

"But Will, I thought we killed Jack," Will said to himself, "Don't be an idiot, of course we did." "Then how is he here right now?" Will continued muttering to himself under his breath, and Hannibal wondered if Will was finally losing _it_, but decided that it wasn't his problem, and that Will had never had too much of _it_ anyway, so instead he pondered over the fact that he hadn't watered his plants in two months.

While Will communicated with himself, and Hannibal mourned his plants, Jack, favoring one leg heavily, limped into the house. "How'd you get in?" Hannibal asked, quickly stuffing the rest of his treasured Hearté Dé Humané a la Crepé Quiché Soufflé Grandé into Will's mouth. Will spat it out, put the dish on a fancy plate and proceeded to feed it to Jack by hand.

"I kicked the windows open after I couldn't kick the door open," Jack sighed in defeat, then moaned into the food as he took a bite, "But this is really good, so it kind of makes up for my shitty entrance."

"Yes," Hannibal agreed, "you really need to fix that. Or you could just knock on the door and wait for me to answer it." Jack scoffed, ignoring the fact that Hannibal had taken a knife out and was sharpening it, while staring at Jack's neck contemplatively. Jack then snapped out of his vodka-induced haze, then remembered why he was there.

"Will, I have bad news for you. It's the Ripper again, but he's changed his targets. I arrived home to see my cat's playroom destroyed, and the only one to do something this horrible is the Chesapeake Ripper." Hannibal was turning green, as well as Will, realizing what Hannibal's dish was really made of. No wonder it was quite small. Jack continued, tears forming in his eyes, oblivious to their plight, "I need you to come with me to the scene—"

"Fuck the police!" Will screamed at Jack, while holding up three middle fingers.

"Cool, but will you come to the funeral?" Hannibal and Will were shocked. Hannibal wondered where Will got the third middle finger. Noticing Hannibal's interest, Will tried to hide his love for the finger, but instead dropped the middle finger, and a passing bird swooped down and stole it. Will would never see his beloved again. Ever.

Jack whipped off his sunglasses and spun around to look at Hannibal. "You'll both come to the funeral though," he corrected himself, staring at them unnervingly, and waltzed out of Hannibal's ludicrously sized house, snapping his fingers, after they slowly nodded.

* * *

><p>In the graveyard's parking lot, a car skidded to a stop, crashing into three other cars as it did so. Inside the car, Hannibal clutched at his heart and looked out the window with a bulging frightened eye, since the other one was being loaned to Will, in a bid to improve his driving ability. It wasn't working.<p>

As Hannibal got out of the car shakily, Will exited the vehicle with obvious cheer, energetically surveying the chaos he had caused. His smile, if possible, got wider. Hannibal shivered as he glimpsed the madman that had somehow convinced him that it was a good idea to let him drive (Hannibal personally suspected voodoo).

Will grabbed Hannibal's hand, and led him into a grassy area filled with tombstones, where Jack's cat would be buried. Hannibal removed the appendage clinging to his hand, and after a spray of disinfectant, continued on his way, approaching Jack, who was sobbing into some poor agent's shirt. Crinkling his nose in disgust, Hannibal stood in front of Jack for a solid two minutes, waiting to be acknowledged. Will sprinted past them both, ending up right next to the cat-sized coffin.

Getting tired of Jack's attitude, Hannibal cleared his throat. Unfortunately for him, Jack's cries were too loud, so Hannibal increased the volume of his throat-clearing. By the time he was noticed, Hannibal was making angry serial killer-esque noises, barely refraining from making the occasion a double funeral.

"Oh Hannibal," Jack managed to say through a torrent of tears, "I'm so happy you're here. We needed one more human sacrifice in order to send Fluffy McKillerCatcher's soul to cat heaven, and you're the perfect guy!" Hannibal did not know what kind of shit Jack was pulling, but patted him on the back harshly, propelling Jack into the mud that was created by the massive amount of tears.

Hannibal smiled down at Jack, refusing to offer his help to the worm at his feet. "If this funeral is involves another person's death, count me in," Hannibal glanced around to look at all the potential meat in the vicinity, "But if you think that I'm going to sacrifice my life in order for a flea-bitten creature to travel to heaven you are dead. Wrong. Dead wrong." Hannibal took a scalpel out from who knows where and pressed it against Jack's head, but Jack was so far gone he hadn't heard a word of Hannibal's insensitive speech or even noticed his murderous intent.

Will skipped happily in the background, murdering innocent loved funerals.


End file.
